


Second and Hours

by Oreofignewtonsblazko



Series: Assassins meet Reader [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, History, Reader-Insert, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreofignewtonsblazko/pseuds/Oreofignewtonsblazko
Summary: The reader is gifted with a map that had been passed down by generation in her family's lineage ever since they've settled near Boston. The map consists of a language made up between your family and the Mohawk Indians, in which you and your family speak little of this made up language.One day, whilst moving into Boston, you find you are in need of money, and offer to sell the Map at a higher price, where a man who introduces himself as Haytham Kenway offers to buy it at the highest price while saying that it was important to the fate of humanity.Striking a deal, you end up working with the Templars, however hidden in secrecy as to what the Templars believe in- and what the hell? There's a bear of a man who keeps thwarting your attempts to try and find whatever this map is hiding. Sooner than later, you personally meet Connor Kenway, aka Ratonhnhake:ton, and develop strong feelings for the Assassin. The question is:Will you listen to him and try to stop the Templar plans on destroying the world, or will you force yourself to ignore your feelings and continue on to get the cash they offered you, if you helped?





	1. Before your time

Your eyes alit with awe as the morning sun glistened through the light blue sky. Birds chirped, the cows mooed, and the sound of horses' hooves clopping against the flattened bricks that acted as a paved walkway through the bustling city of Boson, Massachusetts. Well- at least the most part, province  of Massachusetts. Numerous buildings rose high above the ground, mostly two or three story buildings that served as homes, business or sickhouses. Red coats lined the streets and corners, with a few prostitutes charming a few unsuspecting men. Children's laughter filled the air, seeming to nicely compliment the chatter of adults and teens in the area about. 

You made your way into the general goods, long maroon skirt swishing at your ankles and a corset slimming your sides and pushing up your chest- the glory hidden below by a black wool fabric that reached past your elbows. Covering your hair was a bonet, long tassels tied below your chin and your eyes covered by the soft frills' shadow, allowing your eyes a quick adjustment to the dark room. 

You had recently moved into Boston, your room rented in the Green Dragon Tavern just across the General Goods, and allowing quick access for the ability to trade your goods and wares that you dont need for coin. Giving a warm smile, you looked at the older fellow standing behind the counter with a quill in his calloused palm, his tricorn hat sitting on his head and a soft scarf hiding his hair. His vest was split mid back, and finally at the hip bones with his overcoat hanging up on a hook behind him. 

"Good morning Ma'am," he greeted kindly, seeing as you were a new face in town. "Buying or trading today?"

"Trading I'm afraid. I've heard about the recent prices, and thought i could come in and trade some of my items so you could sell to the general public," you answered as you reached for your white satchel that was perched at your hip, its strap over one shoulder. Unbuttoning it, you dug around, the scent of gun powder hitting your nose and spices that hung above you from the ceiling. The floorboards creeked below your heeled shoes, and you made a step forward whilst pulling out a rolled up piece of yellowing paper. Around its middle was a black ribbon, and a bow held long tails that tickled at your soft and slender fingers. 

You failed to notice the group of large men that pushed open the door, causing a soft tinkling bell to alert the owner of new customers. He looked up, a new aura suddenly surrounding you as you gently laid the roll onto the countertop. You paid little attention to the men's conversation, simply shuffling around some more in your satchel and giving a light hum as you set down a couple pieces of sewing sets and thread that would be generally hard to come by. You had a few spares in your currently rented bedroom- you were absolutely sure you didnt need these extra items. 

The owner carefully picked up the roll, your head lifting and watching his expression as he eyed it. "Now what might this be?" He asked gruffly, not bothering to open up the ribbon. 

"A map- useless one at that. Its supposedly some treasure map that had been passed down in my family, with some made up language," you gave a half hearted shrug then and watched as he gave an equally light hearted scoff.

"This map wont be of any use-" a calloused hand reached forward, intercepting the owner from handing you the roll of paper. 

"And what sort of treasure were they after?" A silky, deep voice hummed out in interest, brown eyes half hooded and his body turning to you. 

Your eyes traveled up the arm, taking in the deep navy suit hat was elaborate, and a long overcoat that sat over his shoulders, with a tricorn sitting atop of black hair that was flecked with silver. His cheeks were softly accented, jaw strong and his collar rising high along his neck. Holding his long hair back was a red silk ribbon, and chains were elaborately hooking his vest to his coat. You swallowed thickly, unable to find an answer.

A throaty chuckle escaped his chest, his eyes glinting as he caught your gaze. "Cat caught your tongue?" he teased.

Clearing your throat, you felt your cheeks and ear tips turn hot, hands smoothing down your skirt to smear away the sweat that begun to form. "Well..." you began, your head tilting to the group of men now encircling you. "The legend in my family says that there's some sort of... doorway or something," you stated, catching note of the way this stranger begun to look uninterested. "But there's more to it! Like, it has some sort of piece from ancient times. It looks foreign, like... From the middle east," you finished, catching his full attention. Slowly, your smaller hand gently grasped the end of the map, and you felt his large hand encircle it to slide over your smaller hand.

His hand enclosed around yours, thumb gently caressing soft circles on the back of your hand and rubbing your knuckles. It took everything in your willpower to stand upright in front of this handsome fellow. "How about we talk business over a cup of tea?" he hummed out warmly, eyebrows slightly arching and a kind smile gracing his chapped lips. Your head tilted, looking at the owner of the store, and looked rather apologetic. "She'll hand those over free of charge," the man stated and your eyes snapped up to glare at this stranger, but felt your nose being brushed lightly by his. "Trust me, you won't miss a penny," his tone lowered just an octave as he talked in your ear, hot breath fanning across your neck and you could feel your pulse quicken in your throat. Giving a small nod of your head, you were led out the door and to the tavern just across the street. 

By the time that you managed to nestle down, it was close to noon, and the stranger had kindly draped his riding coat over your shoulders to keep your clothing clean as you sat down in one of the chairs that had been preoccupied by a drunkard. You were sitting at a table in the upstairs level, your eyes wandering around the wooden walls before turning to stare at the man across from you. His tricorn had was perched on his seat behind him, and his slicked back hair was finally revealed to you. Giving a quiet sigh, you turned from the soft strands to his dark eyes, giving a small smile.

"Introductions must be the first of order," the stranger stated as he sat upright. "My name is Haytham Kenway, and these are my boys," he gestured to the rabid pack of older men behind him- all dressed wealthily by the way- and giving a quiet inhale. "Charles Lee," he gestured to a man with hair receeding on his head and a mustache, "Nicholas Biddle," a man with black wavy hair that could only be described as a pirate, "Benjamin Church," a man with a powdered wig on his dark hair and a round body, "Thomas Hickey," a man in his middle ages, and dark hair with stubble. He looked like trouble for you, "John Pitcarin," a man in a red coat- could really only be associated with the Crown- and finally, "William Johnson." A middle aged man, with gray temples and long black hair that curled over his shoulder, with a beard and mustache together. "And what might your name be Madame?"

Looking back at Haytham, you smiled kindly and tipped your head, saying, "______ _______. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Kenway."

"Please, call me Haytham," he insisted, gently reaching for the map and untying the ribbon that held it close. Looking at him, he uncurled the yellowing paper and revealed a map that was complicated for its time. Levels indicating whether it was high or low range of land, with indications of trees, and tribes and buildings within the forest, with a sign of two splitting branches, and oak leaves decorated across it.  Trailing in a good 1/4 portion below the map was a mixture of a somewhat forgotten language and symbols of the Mohawk Indians. Looking across the map, he slowly turned to look at you and arch a brow. "Tell me what's so important about this map- and what these symbols could possibly mean."

You gently pulled the coat closer over your chest, giving a small shrug as you arched a brow at the map in equal manner. "I know how to speak that language written down- though I cant be sure to inform that I can easily read it. The Indian symbols have not been passed down in our family, but rather in some family that was living in the area. As far as I know, it's in the Kanien'kehá:ka, village of Kanatahséton," Your jaw sat low, and your tongue shifted amongst your teeth as you flawlessly pronounced the name of the Mohawk village. Charles Lee seemed to bristle with nervousness, his eyes turning to Haytham, whom stared at you with small awe and shock. Though, you were sure it wasn't due to the way you could say the names. Turning your head down to the map, your fingers gently curled into your hand and your index finger pointed at the words. "If given enough time, I am sure I am able to decipher what is written. I'll be willing to help, to work, but only, if you pay me and I am allowed in on the portion. It is my family's map after all," you pointed out, earning eager nods from the men. A smile curled your lips, giving a small nod. "There we go then. Its settled."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my second Assassin's Creed x Reader, and just like the first its currently a WIP. However, this one has a little more stability, and right now I'm absolutely in love with Connor. TBH, he outranked Altair by a slim margin, but its because Connor is quite handsome, and he's set in the revolutionary war time period, my favorite haha.
> 
> Anyways, this is the 'first chapter' and I really hope you enjoyed it! I know there wont really be a whole lot of Connor in the first portion, because you are working with the Templars, but soon enough it'll become time for you and Connor to meet!!
> 
> If you're a guest, you can still leave Kudos and comments! I'd love to hear from you guys and what ya'll hope to see!! 
> 
> Happy Readings,  
> Fignewtons


	2. The unfortunate events for William Johnson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small time ravel through Willaim Johnson's events, and the first meeting with Connor. <3

It had been two months since the deal had been made. Each day of yours was spent cooped up in your room that was given to you- lavish, and well equipped with almost all of the materials you needed to translate. You were given new clothing too, all styles and colors matching to the 7 men you were spending you time with. On the rare occasions, William Johnson or Haytham had gone to you to take you out for an afternoon stroll just before the sun set. It was currently October, the days shorter and nights longer, with the winds bringing a promising chill of winter each day that it billowed past the sea. Your windows that had been opened fully were either halfway open on some warm days, or barely a crack to just keep the warm rays of the sun to meet your paling skin.

Currently, you were working with William Johnson, in the frontier out west and visiting the Indian village. Your fingers lightly fiddled with the silky red skirt of yours, your slim and light red top coming up and over your shoulder and a long hooded cape adorned your body and gently accented the soft fabric that currently covered you now. The way of life in the Indians currently intrigued you, and you were slowly walking around. Several curious children inspected you, though they kept their distance from you. 

Crouching down, you smiled and revealed your kindness to them, all the while the man you accompanied talking some form of business to the elders. Reaching out, your slender fingers spread as a wobbling toddler made his way to you. His clothed chest did little to hide his somewhat round tummy, and his cute chubby cheeks were painted with a rose color. He gurbled, saying something in his native tongue and strong, but small hands clasped around your fingers as he now confidently walked the rest of the way to your body. He gave a shrill and happy squeal, nose scrunching and faceplanting against your chest while he gripped at your clothing. Gently scooping him up, you stood up fully and gently rubbed his tiny nose and made silly faces. Your body twisted, not noticing William Johnson and the two elders that were now before you.

Looking up, you sheepishly smiled and said, "Shé:kon. Skennenkó:wa ken?"

The elders perked up at your basic knowledge of greeting to them, giving smiles before they answered in kind, "Ianerátie'."

That was really all you currently knew. Giving a smile, you sheepishly answered, "T-thats good." Looking to William, he gave a soft sigh in your direction, but the kind man simply gestured for you to continue speaking. 

"They have come to talk to you about the pact between your family and the family that resides here," he informed you.

Nodding, you gently shifted the toddler so he could wrap his small arms around your neck and propped his body against your torso. 

"The family you speak of is no longer with us- they died in a fire, not so long ago," one of the elders stated. 

Upon hearing the news, you felt your entire being shatter. The hope that had been placed in your heart was now gone like leaves drifting through the wind, and you simply turned to bury your nose into the child's soft hair. 

"But they have left you something. It is a gift, saying that you must wear it at all times for the great spirit of wisdom will guide you," he continued, gesturing for a young man to come forward with a box in hand. Slowly, a wooden box was opened, and placed inside were owl feathers, linked together by leather and one of the elders gently threaded it through your hair. The last piece was a long necklace that dipped near the curve of your chest, lined with wolf claws and fangs. "The tsihstekeri represents the wisdom of your family, joined by the leadership and ferocity of the okwaho by the Indian's family," gesturing to the items that now adorned your body. 

"Thank you," you stated, giving a respectful tip of your head before gently setting the toddler down. You glanced to your companion, seeing him smile slightly before you turned your attention back to the Indians. "I only ask that i do not be treated as a stranger- i long to come back and make better ammends between us. Please- i wish to learn your language and customs, that I may discover what else my family has done," you asked kindly, gently clasping the man's hands and looking at him in a hopeful manner. 

"It is the chief's decision. There is one of our men however, out in your world," he answered you, gently patting your hands. 

Nervously swallowing, you looked hopeful then.

"His birth name is Ratonhnhaké:ton," he informed you. 

Slowly, you shifted your jaw and let your tongue shift against your teeth, repeating slowly, "Ratonhnhaké:ton..." Earning a nod of approval, you smiled and said the name like you were having a normal conversation, stumbling for a brief moment before continuing on the name in repeat. "Thank you! I will go and ask for his name where I can- I desire to meet him," you grinned widely, turning to go.

An elder gently snagged your hand, leaning forward and whispering in your ear, "He lives in a home not far from here. His friend can escort you to him."

Giving a nod, you eyed William. Taking in a soft breath, you smiled sweetly at the older man and said, "Go ahead to Boston. I'll follow-"

"No you wont," he interrupted, causing you to pout and a small side glare from the indian beside you. Looking at William, he gently took your hand and guided you to the horse you shared. "As much as you would enjoy to stay here, you must realize Haytham would miss you."

"But William, I have the ability to stay and learn their tongue," you whined in protest and looked at him as he eased his weight onto the horse. He gently spurred the creature ahead, the being galloping out and away with a few of his hand picked guards racing after him. 

"Next time darling. I promise to bring you on the next talk. There we can arrange where the Indians will stay, and where you be able to set your materials. It would be folly to try and write on soft paper when it can break so easily on the forest items," he hummed, a small frown tugging your lips as you knew how right he was.

"I suppose you're right," you mumbled, looking down at the strong neck of the mare and gave it a gentle smile. Haytham made you feel so happy and warm- how could you forget the man that always anxiously awaited your arrival?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i was proof reading this to my mother, and it actually went fairly well; She enjoys the story which is cool hahaha
> 
> Shé:kon. Skennenkó:wa ken : Hello. How are you?
> 
> Ianerátie: Good, thank you.
> 
> tsihstekeri: owl
> 
> okwaho: wolf
> 
>  
> 
> I do hope this is a good chapter though! <3
> 
> Happy Readings,  
> Fignewtons


	3. Boston Tea Party

**December, 1773**

It was mid December when it happened. You were with Charles Lee that day- and by the by you were grumpy at the fact you had to accompany this dimwit. You were dressed in a rose red outfit, lined with gold and black and your necklace adorning its perch at the hallow of your throat. You had shorted it just a little, so it brought attention somewhere else than your breasts. Your hair was always put back, and lined with the white owl feathers that were spotted with black. No matter what you wore, those two items were always complimenting your figure. Draped over your shoulders were a black hooded cape, and kept in the warmth so it would kiss your cool skin. 

Over the month and a half, you had been working busily to decipher the language, occasionally slipping off by Haytham's permission and visiting the tribe to learn some simple phrases. By the time you were down, you had managed to write down half the alphabet and actually make more progress in deciphering the map. Though, it was far from complete. However, instead of being concealed in the warmth of the room and talking with Haytham over dinner, you were standing on the brick street of the harbor and watching as the Sons of Liberty tossed the tea from William Johnson's ships.

To be honest, you indeed shared their same view on the items imported. They were ridiculously taxed, and too high priced for a fat man who was already wealthy from his own people that lived on the same continent as he. To ask for more from his rebellious subjects was easy to figure out it would simply ruffle everyone who was already grumpy from previous acts and new laws. Looking at the ship, you watched as the crates fell and the red coats get slaughtered. You felt pity for their families, but not for those men that fell one by one. They certainly didn't treat you right, unless you said that they better watch their backs, otherwise Haytham wouldn't aid them. Of course, this caused them to be respectful, but it didn't stop the sneering of your name behind your back- all just because you adorned yourself with 'savage' items. 

You glanced at Charles, unaware of the white robed man that had narrowed his eyes and senses upon you. Instead, you managed to glance at the ship and give a soft sigh. You warned William about taking the king's deal of the taxation, and here you were. 

"Im returning to my room Charles. It seems there is nothing we could do," you told him, turning and gracefully picking up your skirt as you sashayed towards the growing crowd. 

"Miss ____ I do not think it wise to go alone with this Assassin out," Charles stated as he moved after you, gently grabbing your shoulder.

You jerked your joint free, turning to glower bitterly at him. "And yet who were the ones that didn't heed my warning on this taxation? We wouldn't be in this situation if you and William had listened to me," you snapped, flicking his nose and watching as he jerked back slightly. "The assassin may do as he pleases- he has nearly the whole town at his side. I do not wish to be caught in a riot should something happen." Just as you were about to step, the balding man grabbed you by the waist and tossed you onto his shoulder, causing you to squeal and wriggle in his grasp. "Charles Lee! Put me down this instant!" You shouted, pounding your fists onto the man's back and hearing a grunt escape his frame.

"Not until you learn that it isnt proper to walk away from the scene with a dangerous man so close by," he answered you seriously, Thomas Hickey trailing along behind the two of you. 

"Fine," you huffed out in defeat, staring at the ground and watching as his tail coats swished with his long strides. You didnt mind the now silent walk, soon being set down and your head throbbing as the blood now rushed down from your cranium. You wobbled for a moment, Thomas gently grabbing your arm and leaning forward to place his hand on your waist. 

"Alright now love- no need to go and get drunk," he teased in a purr, leaning forward and hiding his face into your neck. 

You growled, pushing, the usually drunk, man off of you with a flushing face. "Stay off of me Hickey," you growled defiantly, though you ended up sounding like a spitting kitten.

He chuckled, pulling you by the waist and holding you flush against him. "Haytham isn't here yet- he doesn't have to know," he purred out in answer, delving at your neck as you struggled to push the bastard off. 

"Haytham!" You mewled out, hands shoving at Thomas. It was sudden when the man was shoved off of you, a swish of navy and gold now in your view and the feeling of anger boiling off of the head master's body. 

"And you'd think I wouldn't notice _your_ actions? You're a damn fool Thomas," Haytham sneered out as he pressed a boot down onto his chest. "Don't you dare touch her like that, ever again. If you do, I'll make sure the bloody patriots gut you piece by piece." A snarl took its place on the head master, his weight easing off of his subordinate before he turned and looked to you. 

You held the side of your neck in shame, looking at the ground and was soon gently guided into the building. 

"Next time, yell for me darling," Haytham told you as he gently squeezed your shoulder. 

 


	4. Ratonhnhaké:ton

**May, 1774**

Five months passed. In all honesty, they were smooth and without trouble. The Assassin had been mentioned to your group of men here and there, but they never seemed to have any issues with him as of recently. Your translating had come to a sad stalemate. You had not a single idea as to what could be causing you such troubles, and you even expressed to Haytham it was hard to try and even write out a simple hello in your family's native tongue. It brought you discouragement, and in all honesty, it put you in a mood that was similar to depression. It brought down the men's moods too- though you weren't really aware of it. You usually paced back and forth in the room, muttering to yourself in the most unnatural sounding tongue before you would shake your head and switch to speaking in the Mohawk language. Neither just seemed to sit well with you, and most of the human contact that you've had in the past week was mostly Haytham and William Johnson. 

You were fiddling with the clothing that had been given to you, wearing the light red hue of William's dress, and sighing lightly. You thought that maybe today walking around Boston would put your mind to ease- but you knew those damned red coats would pester you for a fun time. Your nose scrunched up slightly, but you simply rubbed your eyes and shook your head. Maybe Haytham could accompany you- then it would put the red coats to rest.

Turning, you made your way to the door and opened it, revealing William on the other side.

"William! What brings you here this morning?" You gasped softly, giving a weak smile that certainly wasnt heartfelt.

"Well I'm going to meet the Indians this afternoon. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me there. It would certainly put your mind at ease," he offered kindly.

Your heart fluttered at his kindness, a genuine smile forming across your delicate lips as you eagerly nodded. "Thank you so much!" You stated, soon grabbing your satchel and a book with a small ink container and a quill. You returned, closing the door behind you and meeting Haytham at the entrance. William had gone outside to prepare you a carriage, seeing as it would be better for you to ride that way instead of on plain horseback. Looking at Haytham, he gently ran his hand down the back of your arms and he pulled you closer. 

"Be careful my darling," he breathed softly, leaning his head down.

You stretched up slightly, forehead to his then. "I will," you promised softly, gently tilting your head and giving his cheek a gentle kiss before moving outside. Stepping down and onto the ground, you made careful and poised steps to the carriage. There, a man kindly guided you up the steps and you sat in the large box.

The ride in all was two to three hours, and it was quite the beautiful scenery. The carriage rolled up, coming to a stop and William soon opening up the door. He offered you a hand, you gently taking it and giving a soft thank you. The fresh air filled your lungs, the scent of the approaching summer filling your being and you gave a wide smile at the area. Soon, you picked up your skirt and approached the small group of chieftains. They kindly greeted you, you giving them a big curtsy before you were guided to sit down nearby. One of them had been informed of your arrival- or at least that you would be there and wouldn't ever miss the opportunity- and brought the young toddler along with him. Being handed the child, you giddily played with him while the men talked over the deal. 

In all honesty, you were sitting near some rocks with a plume of flowers, the young child playing in the flowers and inspecting the few small animals that wearily ran up to greet the two of you. The guards and the personal bodyguards of William trailed around, one bringing you a stick with feathers and fur at the end of it to entertain the child before he was off. You werent aware of the looming danger, of the white that turned a deep grey in the shadows of the forest. You were so intent on playing with the child that you jumped when you heard William raise his voice for a brief moment. Your head tilted, gently bringing the child to your body and letting him get entangled in your soft hair before you got up. 

Looking up, you saw the chieftains upset about something, and your companion nervously explaining his position. Moving over, you went to go and help calm the quarrel. Your lips parted, mouth opened and then you felt it. It was warm and wet and oozing, sticky too and it smelt of iron. _Blood_. Over William was _the_  Assassin, and his head lifted below his hood as he narrowed his gaze on you. 

You were horrified, the soldiers scrambling about you and fighting the man while the chieftains moved off in their escape. Your breathing picked up, the toddler beginning to cry in your arms as you felt yourself begin to panic. Why hadnt you stayed at home? Looking around, you felt yourself startled, unsure of what to do. Just as you felt your legs get the urge to twitch, the Assassin's arms wrapped around your body. He picked you up, his hand on the back of your head and the other holding you below your thighs as he moved at a rapid pace. He clambored over a tree truck, bouncing from tree branch to tree branch and eventually sliding down a trunk. His breathing was rapid, the feeling of his heartbeat in his pulse at his thick neck. The toddler gripped you tightly, and you the child in return. You weren't letting go, not until you arrived at the homestead and was set down on the large expanse of a white staircase. 

You gripped the toddler, eyes wide and frame shaking before you hushed the child. "Hey hey... You're okay," you cooed softly, brushing his dark tufts away before giving a weak smile.

Looking up, you notice the assassin pull down his hood. His skin was bronze in hue, and his cheekbones were softly, yet well defined. His brown orbs were dark, yet somehow manageably lighter than that of his deep brown locks. The hair atop of his head and halfway up the sides were pulled back to a half pony tail, and at his left temple it was braided with beads adorning the soft locks. He looked like... Haytham. "Are you okay? William Johnson did not hurt you, did he?" He asked curiously. 

Blinking, you gently shifted the child and cradled him, letting him finally doze off before you shook your head slowly. "No I..." You didnt know how to speak, your eyes turning over to one of the chieftains that hobbled over with this assassin's friend.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton-" you heard the elder say. Your heart leapt in your throat, your mind reeling at several miles per hour and you felt your eyes rolling back into your head. The darkness swam from the edges of your vision and your body fell back against the white porch, leaving you sprawled, but protectively holding the child against your body. Their voices sounded distant, and the last thing you saw was the Assassin looming over you and desperately trying to get you to stay awake.

Though you didnt care- your mind had to process the shock that had sparked your frame:

Ratonhnhaké:ton was the assassin, who just killed William Johnson. What else was there? Its not like he could be the son of Haytham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a new Chapter; one will happen shortly however. Just to make chapters shorter but more enjoyable; they'll be longer once I figure out where I want this story to go


	5. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns you are working with his father and the Templars before he is forced to go with Achillies to hand you back.

After watching you leave, Haytham had set off to busy his restless mind. He knew William and his men were capable of taking care of you- protecting you; but there was always a faint puddle of worry that was tucked away in the pits of his belly. The older man made his way from the lodging of the tavern and stepped outside, slipping into the public bar area. It was forbidden for a woman to walk into a bar- unless she were a whore. A woman with the ties and abilities to be able to step into a bar to seduce men wasn't all that frowned upon, but Haytham did notice that they were never really appropiately dressed. Their elbows would show, hair revealed- not that you were deemed improper- it was lower class women that were allowed their natural locks to be revealed. He had stepped across the room, cape delicately swishing behind him in time with his tail coat, and his sword sheathed at his hip. His tricorn cap sat perfectly straight on his head, casting a shadow over his dark eyes. 

He spent the remainder of his time here, socializing with the few other members of the close Templar order and drawing up plans on what they would do when the land was bought. However, he didn't plan anything grand- he knew you would want a very big say in how things would be done. His hands brushed over their map, pointing to where the main camp was established for the Indians.

He was about to speak when a messanger burst through the downstairs doors, panting and heaving. Turning, Haytham made careful steps towards the banister and narrowed his eyes down on him. "Are you, Haytham Kenway?" The messenger rasped out between pants, eyes rolling back and breathing heavy. 

"I am he. What is it?" Haytham answered cautiously, tensing his body and feeling the hidden blade tickle at the edges of his palm.

The young fellow jogged up the steps, rounding the banister and stopping in front of his elder. "The assassin killed William Johnson and kidnapped _____ in the process," he rasped.

Immediately, his blood turned cold and a fire begun to kindle within his spirits. That damn boy- what was he planning on doing to you? He didn't utter a word of thanks, simply pushing past him and making a mad scurry down the steps and to the outside world. The sun was close to setting on the horizon, and fear leapt at his heart. Surely the boy wouldn't hurt you- would he? His jaw tightened, hips snapping forward and stradling the saddle as he urged it into galloping speed. This was personal- he didn't need Charles or Thomas to accompany him. He knew that someone was going to pay dearly for letting you be taken.

 

You thought that they were going to do worse. But they didn't; that surprised you. In fact, you were treated special, like a woman would only dream of being treated. The child clung onto you, scared of the old man and the assassin that roamed the large mansion freely. On occasion, a couple visitors that lived on the land would come to say hello to the assassin, calling him... Connor? You thought thats what they said. They would wave hello to you as well, seeming kind and unaware of where you had come from. 

So you found yourself sitting at a long table, the child in your lap that was eating an apple. His big brown eyes were focused on the other slices that had been cut up appropiately, and he would try to grab and force two pieces at a time into his mouth. Like a mother, you gently scolded him for doing such an action, and hummed approvingly when he finally decided that he didn't like his small hand lightly smacked. You took a bite from the cooked meat, having a feeling it was hare, and chewed. The old man, dark in color, had introduced himself to you as Achillies. His dark eyes focused on the child, and then at you.

"I hope Connor didn't jostle you and your son too much," he finally stated.

You paused, brows furrowing slightly. Son? You opened your mouth to protest, saying that this was a child from the Indian tribe but found that Connor spoke first, "She appeared more shaken at the fact she saw someone killed."

Very true Connor, you thought, watching as Achillies lifted his cane and lightly whacked the top of the Indian's head. "I was telling that to our lovely guest, not you."

You smiled lightly, gently reaching over to the man and let your hand delicately rest on his forearm. "He isn't wrong," you assured softly, retracting your hand and feeling it be taken by the child to inspect your palm. "Really, what... Shook me was the fight. I didn't expect anyone to launch at William," you told them softly. 

They blinked at you, Achillies almost curious as to why you weren't expecting a thing when the door was pushed open. Connor stood up, chair pushed back and watching who entered. "Connor! Achillies!" A female voice exclaimed out of worry. She was dressed in animal skins- a hunter you concluded- and watched as she approached the table. "One of the Indians had just informed me of Haytham at their tribe. He's angry about someone being taken from him," she puffed, her brows furrowing.

Connor and Achillies spared a glance, your eyes widening. Haytham had come looking for you- and he sounded pissed. You swallowed nervously, getting up from your spot. "And what was their name?" You asked quietly, feeling their eyes all turn to you.

"He says her name is _____," she informed. "He also said that the assassin would have her."

Immediately, Connor rounded on you, the assassin advancing towards your smaller frame. The child you clutched seemed to sense how you were becomming distressed, your heart throbbing in your throat and your eyes squeezing shut when you felt his presence rather close to yours. You were waiting to be hit- anything really. Instead, his deep voice rumbled out, "What is it that Haytham wants you?"

Slowly, your eyes opened to stare up at his brown ones, taking note of the hazel and tinges of gold and green in the delicate orbs while you answered, "I... I... I work with him." 

Wrong answer. Immediately his large hand grasped your throat, slamming you against the wall and hidden blade licking at the soft flesh of your skin. "What do the Templars want with my people?" He snarled out venemously, your body writhing against the white washed walls and struggling in the bear of a hand. 

"I don't know who you're talking about!" You cried out in protest, your distress causing the child to cry. Your own tears slid out and down your cheeks, the anger and livid hatred flaring across Connor's face. For once in your lifetime- you were generally afraid for your life and for the small life that was with you. "I don't know what the Templars are!"

"Dont lie to me!" He snarled at you, pressing on the blade and drawing the warm liquid down your skin. 

"I swear to the highest diety- I don't know what the Templars are!" You screamed out, feeling the stinging sensation crawl more across your throat. It wasn't deep thankfully, and you knew it could be sewen up- but it would leave a scar. 

"Connor!" Achillies barked, the female yanking the assassin away from your shaking frame. As soon as you were let go, you slumped down to the floor, curling up around the child and cowering like a cornered animal.

Connor was practically seething, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where is Charles Lee?!" His deep voice rose slightly, ignoring his elder's word of warning.

Achillies raised his cane and whacked the assassin- this time harsher and across the chest. It caused him to crumple, holding his hurting ribcage and gasp slightly. "Connor- you're a fool," the elder hissed out, his voice finally lowering and hobbling over to your frame. "I am so sorry darling... We will get you home safely," he stated, gently helping you up as you shivered in fear. One hand gripped your throat, the other gripping the slowly hushing toddler. Looking at Achillies, he gently guided you to the front door. 

 

Haytham was growing restless by the minute. He was ready to jump off his horse and tackle the nearest indian and force the information of where she went out of them, and if they didnt know he would slaughter them and- his ears pricked, listening to the change in mood and the soft noise of clopping hooves. He twisted in his saddle, soon leaping down and boots planting firmly in the ground when the carriage came to a stop. He took notice of your eyes in the windowless section, and his heart leapt in his throat when he saw the red liquid smeared across your skin and splattered across your face. His eyes searched, uncaring of who the driver was and was eagerly yanking open the door. You practically leapt out, handing the child over to one of the tribe members before launching yourself at the older man. Haytham gripped your body tightly, face buried into your hair and body flush together. 

"Oh God I've grown worried," he breathed in your ear, gently kissing below your lobe and then lifting his head to look over you. You didn't care at this point, letting him inspect how intact you were. His chest emitted a low growl, his eyes turning dark and immediately growling at the driver. Achillies and Connor were perched there, with the older man gripping Connor to keep the man from pouncing on his father. "I expected a gentleman to take care of a woman, not a savage," he hissed at his son, seething at this point.

The word ruffled Connor the wrong way, his chest heaving now with his growing anger. He didnt say anything, except glare below his hood. 

"It was a minor accident, one that a lesson will be properly taught," Achillies interjected, tipping his hat lightly. 

Turning his eyes on Achillies, Haytham hid you into the expanse of his chest. "I should have killed you when I had the chance!" He snapped, picking you up and setting you on the horse before he accompanied your body. You shrank back against him, the Head Master glaring at the duo that sat on the seats offered by the carriage. Achillies was level headed, but the father and son were glaring at each other. "If she had been returned to me, covered in more blood and even more scratched, i would not have hesitated to kill one of your own," he warned Connor, causing his jaw to clench and his muscles jump as the hidden blade flexed in its hold. Seeing as that was enough to be said, Haytham jerked the reigns and the horse bolted out of the camp, running through the entrance and bolting up the long trail that guided as a path to the mainly used roads towards Lexington.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I've settled to do, making chapters a bit shorter than what Id like, and just adding more as I go. Otherwise this would probably never update and id kill myself.
> 
> with love,  
> Fignewtons


	6. How do you love when you're broken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ask that you listen to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZ9Dmvknn-0 as you read. Take the link, copy and paste it in a new tab and just listen (while reading) when you see the ♪ symbol. Its very important you do!
> 
> Also no summary because there is no way to describe this hell hole

For a while, you had suspected that Haytham was up to something before he upped and disappeared one day. It happened all at once- Charles, Thomas and the other templars as well- just left. You discovered this by waking up with a new dress hanging delicately up. It was black in color, and accented with reds and deep Prussian blues. In short- it was beautiful with its style. Large skirt, endless frills and a large bow that sat at the small of your back just above your rump. Long tails fluttered at your skirt; when you had put it on, you honestly wondered who it was matching. So when you stood along the balcony with the soft fabric adorning your body and a handsome stranger standing in place of where Haytham would usually greet you in the lobby, you had pieced together exactly who it could be. It was a man they barely spoke about- aside from that sea fairing man that looked like a pirate- and from what you've heard he sounded like a man of honor. Though, they never did say his name. Your heels softly clacked as you moved across the floor boards. The cut along your throat had scarred over into a small raise along the skin, and your hair was neatly done with the feathers adorning your soft locks. The only thing hidden from view was the wolf claws. Coming to a stop before the man, his deep tawny gaze glittered with interest in you.

"You must be _____ ______, right lass?" His irish accent coming out rich and thick- and it was delicious enough to send excitement from your spine to curl your toes. Mind you- Haytham's British accent was just as amazing.

"Quite right sir. I woke up this morning to find that all of my other outfits had been replaced with ones of these colors; I found it rather suspicious that... These other men whom i work for, just upped and left. I assume you're... Taking their spots?" You explained, arching a brow. When he heard work, his cheeks turned red as his ear tips turned darker. It was then your turn to blush as you realized what he might be thinking. "No no- I'm not.. I'm not a whore," you nervously cleared your throat, looking away with embarrassment.

"My apologies lass... I hadn't meant to insult you," he apologized, giving a sheepish grin before he gently held out a hand. "My name is Shay Patrick Cormac. I'll be watching over you for the month while your bosses.. Tend to work else where. It is quite dangerous for a lovely lady like you to be runnin' around the colonies unprotected in a time for war," he hummed out kindly. When you reached out to shake his hand, his gloved fingers gently brushed below your bare fingertips and he placed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. 

You smiled sheepishly then. "Thank you Mr. Cormac... I appreciate your kindness and your time..." You told him softly. 

"Please, call me Shay," he offered, giving you a kind smile.

"Alright.. Shay," you hummed out, seeing him smile ever wider and a tad bit more genuine before continuing, "I need some supplies out here in Boston. Plus, a good stretching of the legs will do. I hope you dont mind accompanying me."

"I don't mind at all lass," he kindly tipped his head before following you out the door and seemingly to prowl behind you. He followed you into the general goods, both of you pausing at the sight before you.

Inside at the counter was the assassin- Connor- and he was buying something from the store owner. He seemed to be talking in a lighthearted tone, as the white robed Mohawkian looked a bit more relaxed. His ears pricked, having heard the sound of the door bell lightly tinkling to let the owner know of who was there. The owner's head turned, a soft but warm smile adorning his face as he gestured to you with open arms. 

"Well if it isn't my favorite linguist. What brings you into the store today? Run out of ink perhaps?" He teased at the end, causing you to nervously clutch at your skirt.

Shay stood tall and imposing behind you, his hands at his sides and head taking a quick look about as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. However, he paused to look at you, his brown orbs carefully assessing you before looking at the assassin.

"Well somewhat. I do need some more quills, i am running a bit short," you replied sheepishly as you didn't dare take a step in Connor's direction. 

"Oh come closer he won't bite," the owner encouraged, making you hestitantly shuffle forward to the counter. 

You made sure to stand a bit away from Connor, his brown orbs boring into your frame and making sure to take your movements to memory. Seeing you shift uncomfortably, Shay stepped between you and him, blocking Connor's studying gaze of you. 

"Thank you," you murmured quietly to Shay, turning your head to the items being laid on the countertop. 

"______," Connor's deep voice rumbled out, the Indian walking around Shay and standing at a good distance away from the unidentifiable Templar. "I spoke to my people in the village.."

You gulped silently, turning to look up at his caramel gaze. 

"The boy.... He," the assassin drew in a breath, "He... He lost his mother. The tribe has asked if you are willing to take him in."

You were shocked, blinking slightly at the man who had tried killing you only a month or two before. "O-of course I would be honored," you breathed softly, gently setting down the coins for the owner to take while you hurriedly took the quills and placed them away in your satchel. Shay arched a curious brow in your direction but said nothing as he listened to you continue, "I suppose they would want me to come down as soon as possible?"

Connor merely hummed in reply. 

Turning to Shay, you gently placed a hand on his forearm. "Is it alright if we head to the frontier today? Its just an hour or so ride out. I can lead the way," you offered.

He suddenly shifted his feet in an uneasy way before he sighed. "Lass, whatever it is you do while _he's_ around is simply your call. If he accompanies you there then I will too." 

 

Apparently his mother had died while giving birth to his sibling and his baby sibling died in the process as well. His father had died in a skirmish with a bear not too long ago, and the boy insisted he see the 'Okwaho' from the far away village. They knew he wasn't speaking about Connor, because he wouldn't be allowed near the child. The child would wail and cry every time the bear of a man approached. So when you arrived, you saw the young boy rush up to you. Normally, it was custom for the tribe to raise him as their own like any normal family would- but they saw the bond between the two of you. It was permitted and it was expressed as a token to rekindle the relationship that your family had with theirs so long ago. You scooped the boy up, holding him tightly and feeling his face press into your neck. He was only four years old- able to grasp at the world about him and yet.. Unknowing of why his mother had forever left him to be a subject of cruelty. You gently cooed when he tried wriggling closer to your body, his cries muffled into your skin as you felt the warm drops fall onto your collar bone and weep a trail downwards. Turning around, you saw Shay nervously tightening his hands as he eyed Connor from the side, the male in mention doing the same. Seeing them act like that made your brow arch ever so slightly before you approached them.

"You can live at the Homestead with him," Connor blurted, causing Shay to immediately grow defensive.

"Oh no she isn't. She's going back to where she's residin. The Lass cant move from Boston," he snipped, turning on the younger man.

Connor glared up at Shay, eyes narrowing. "Boston isn't the right place to raise a child from the Indians. He will need a forest to run in, a place to be free instead of being cooped up," he snapped back, the two easily on edge.

You gave a quiet sigh through your nose, the boy gently lifting his head and peering at the two before he looked at your face. Your lips pressed to a thin line, listening for a long moment as they bickered about which place was better. "The two of you can stop getting your britches in a twist," you interjected, causing Shay to choke on his sentence and Connor's cheeks to flare in red. "I can stay in Lexington. Its close to the forest and the tribe, and its still in civilization. If I'm not mistaken, its also close to the Homestead? It would be a good choice. Though... I must tell the boys at home where I've gone..." You gently shifted the child to let him rest on your hip. 

"Lexington would be great," Connor stated, giving a tip of his head before he led you to the carriage with Shay in tow.

 

The moving was quick really; you didn't have much and you were content with that. There was a spare bedroom, a smaller bedroom for the child and one master bedroom on the second floor. On the ground floor there was a living room, a kitchen and a sun room. The bathroom was an outhouse in the back. You learned the boy's name was Senadondo. From Connor, you heard the name meant fox. He kinda looked like one too; the boy was small, with a slender face and wispy long hair that was tied back, and beaded as well. His hair was a chocolate brown, a lot like Connor, and he had rosy cheeks and his eyes were the hue of a reddish brown. 

You and Shay had remained in Lexington for the whole month- and even longer for you. Shay had stayed an extra day or so because he was corresponding with Haytham and explaining what had happened. Which is what brought you here, during the warm evening of the beginning of August. Senadondo clung onto your leg, gripping the skirt and staring up at Shay as he took in a soft breath and then turned to look to you. 

"Lass I apologize I could not stay longer," he began sheepishly. 

"Well you're always welcome to come back Shay. You certainly aren't a stranger," you assured softly as you leaned up and chastely kissed his cheek.

He smiled, head tilting down to his boots. "I will certainly do that Lass. Perhaps with gifts as well? I do not wish to leave you without more materials," he hummed out, causing you to smile then. "And more furs. If I am not mistaken, you do like warm blankets and hides?"

"You certainly aren't mistaken Mr. Cormac," you answered kindly, giving a nod of your head before the small boy waved a tiny hand up at him.

 "Etsi, catteges issewe?" His small voice asked around your skirt. 

You smiled, gently petting his head before translating, "He's asking when you'll be back."

Shay gave a small shrug, a loss for words. He honestly could never possibly judge when he could be back. It was too hard to tell really. Being out at sea, a number of things can happen. He simply said a soft farewell to Senadondo and kissed your cheek in a friendly gesture before the man was swinging up on his horse and galloping away. 

Taking his place was Connor, the assassin dropping down into view and the demeanor suddenly shifting. Senadondo gave a whimper, shifting to bravely stand in front of you and puff out his little chest at the older Indian. He said something in his native tongue, Connor giving a scrunch of his nose and answering back. Finally, the small child looked up at you and lifted his arms as a signal to be lifted up. Doing just that, he got a good look between the two of you. 

"What brings you here on this fine day Connor?" You finally asked, turning and allowing him to follow you into the home. 

"I have come to ask you if you would like to live on the Homestead. My father isn't a man that is to be trusted," he offered once again. You sighed through your nose, the door having been closed behind your (somewhat unwanted) guest. 

"Connor, I can't just drop everything that I have going on right now and live in your small town. I have nothing of value for you to ever profit from," you explained, giving a small frown. "I translate languages- I don't sell clothes or edible foods. I just sit back at home and scribble down languages in one column and the next one into the language I want it to be. You have absolutely nothing to profit from that." He gave you a frown as you continued, "What you want is a woman who can support and sustain herself while you're gone, and one thats useful too." Turning your back to him, your bow sashayed with your hips along your back and the soft tassels fluttered. You were moving items around, getting Senadondo ready for an afternoon nap. He gave a soft yawn, face turning and hiding into your neck as you used one hand to move the warm fur about. You gently laid him on it, soon taking your long cape that you would wear while watching the stars at night, and draped it over his small body. There, he took the warm fabric and cuddled up with it, soft breaths filling the air. 

"There has to be something to convince you to come with me," Connor mumbled.

You walked over to him, gently bracing your hands on his biceps as he looked at you from below his hood.  "There may be a chance one day Connor. But it is wise that I simply take your warning about Haytham. You should get going. I don't know when he'll arrive today and if he sees you, then something bad might happen," you told him, giving a nod of your head before sending him off.

 

 

**_Mid June, 1775; Lexington_ **

 

During the months that had passed, you received occasional visits from Connor, and more visits from Haytham and his men. Shay had managed to stop by with a load of furs and pelts, as well as warm clothing for you and Senadondo for winter before he left on his trip back to New York for the Morrigan. Everything was peaceful for the most part. With the help from Senadondo, you managed to translate more pieces of your map. It was now a good 25% complete, and it was becomming a bit clearer than before. It didn't stress you as much, and quite frankly, you begun to enjoy yourself more often than you'd like to admit.  Though, like every time that something good was going on, a dawn of realization something bad was going to happen. The worst of the gut feelings happened whenever you were with the child under your care. Looking at him brought a feeling of dread, so much so that when he had been taking one of his afternoon naps that you started crying. Thankfully, Haytham had been there to ease your frazzled fears and tell you that he wouldn't let anything happen to the two of you. 

Except, it did happen and he wasnt there to stop it like he promised. When the Red Coats moved into the area, the hostility towards you rose at an alarming rate whenever you were outside with your child. It was slow, and soon enough there was just last night that Paul Reevere and Connor came riding through the town shouting that the British were coming. It gave you more than enough time to collect your things, but Haytham had requested you to stay just until the next day in a letter. He said he would collect you on the way back to Boston. You had worried, endlessly, and told Senadondo everything would be alright and that there was nothing to worry about when he awoke during the night. You only held him while he slept, your cheek on his head as you listened to the sounds outside. 

When it happened, it was morning and the first shot rang out. Your heart practically leapt out of your chest and you looked out the window to check what was happening, but nothing was visible from where your home sat on the edge of the town. Blue coats came in from the forest, pouring into the area before there was an overwhelming ammount of red. You had scurried through the home, clutching Senadondo's small hand while you threw your satchel on over your head and soon picked him up in your arms. 

"Distan*?" He asked quietly, his voice small and eyes wide with fear as you covered him with fur pelts.

"Yes sweetie?" You answered back softly, blinking back warm tears as you shifted the fox pelt that carefully hung over his face.

"Where is Ragina*?" His english made his voice squeaky, but as soon as he said his native word he went back to speaking with a small air of confidence.

Ragina was referring to Connor; Senadondo didn't understand that you weren't his mother, and Connor wasnt his blood father. Looking at the curious red-brown orbs, you gave a quiet sigh. "Im not sure Senadondo. Ragina will be protecting us wherever he's at though, alright?" You whispered back, giving his small eyelids a gentle angel kiss before turning and making a scurry out the doors. You couldn't wait for Haytham any longer. The British were too close for comfort and you knew they would do horrible things if they got their hands on you and the boy. Opening up the door, you made a step or so out before making a scurrying way out towards the woods as a set of freedom. If you could make it to the woods and follow the trail, you could make it to the Homestead. You were sure of it- but it seemed fate had other plans. 

Coming to a halt, you were in a circle of red coats. The men were tall and imposing, and you swore one had a tattoo on his neck. Due to the British fighting the French elsewhere, they sent their best men to those sanctions and left their lowest of the low for the Colonies. This meant former convicts, with a numerous ammount of records. From thieving to rape; this is why they were so cruel here. You gripped the pelt covered Senadondo tighter to your chest, making sure not to suffocate him in the process. 

"Where do you think you're going poppit?" One of the men sneered, your eyes wide and heart beating fast as you felt like a cornered animal.

"Distan...." You heard a weak sob of fear from your arms and you gently shushed him.

"Lookie that- she even got that kid! Makin' for his daddy in the forest poppit?" Another mocked, reaching forward to remove the pelt and you jerked away, stumbling into the arms of one of the soldiers.

"Let me go!" You shrieked, jerking your shoulders to try and free yourself from their grip. 

"Not anytime soon!" The man holding you laughed. One of the other men tore Senadondo from your grasp, causing your cries to grow more pleading as you tried to grab for him. 

"Spare him please!" You sobbed, reaching for the boy as he writhed in their hold. 

"And what? Leave you to take out his punishment and yours? You got a lil' too excited for a savage didnt ye? Now maybe its time you learn to be happy with your own kind," the one holding you hissed into your ear, his arm bound tight around your abdoment while pinning your arms at your side. One of the other men gripped your head, forcing you to watch as they shot Senadondo before making sure his tiny frame was done with bayonet. 

Tears sprang forth, your body jerking as you tried to get to the small boy. "Senadondo!" You cried out, legs flailing and body arching. Your head bowed forward, body falling limp with it as you heard their laughing. Silence overtook them just as quickly as they laughed, the sound of thuds and an angered cry escaping a flurry of white. Connor had punched the man holding you, his wrist flexing and the hidden blade shooting out before retracting. One arm caught your body as it suddenly sprung to life, you stumbling forward and drawing the small boy into your arms. "Senadondo," you whispered, fingers gently trailing over his cheeks. "Im so sorry- Im such a terrible Distan.." 

♪

"Distan... Ragina saved you... That's what matters most," his soft voice trailed out, giving you a weak smile. 

Your hand gripped his wound, trying desperately too apply pressure. Connor crouched beside you, his eyes taking in your tears before he picked you up bridal style. "Connor-"

"I'm taking you back to Doctor White, keep Senadondo awake," he ordered, reaching for a horse and carefully getting up onto the steed before he jerked the reigns and the beast leapt forward. You were curled on the saddle, Connor's arm holding you up midback, and the other arm acting as a railing to keep you from falling. Your head rested on the edge of his collat bone, Senadondo carefully poised so his ear pressed to your chest to listen to his heartbeat. His tiny hands covered yours, holding his wounds  with you.

"Distan... When I was little... I had a different Distan.. A different Ragina... But her heartbeat was... It.." He mumbled in his native tongue, face nuzzling your soft flesh.

"Go ahead, tell me more," you whispered softly.

"It felt like I didn't know it. When I listen to your heartbeat... I fee it is.. Normal.. Like you really are my Distan.."

"And what about Connor?" You asked softly, your free hand gently holding the child closer.

"Sometimes I see him older... With different hair... He is gentle.. It feels right calling him Ragina.." Senadondo told you, giving a smile against your skin. "Konoronhkwa Distan... Konoronhkwa Ragina.." 

His breathing gradually slowed, the horse finally arriving at Dr. White's house and Connor dragging the two of you off the horse and carrying you to the home. "Doctor White!" He cried out, the man being called scuffling in his home before bursting outside. A woman accompanying him saw you and the child in your arms, the two immediately rushing over and taking Senadondo from you. 

"No-" you began in protest, not wanting for him to slip from your fingers. You turned your face, hiding into Connor and gripping his white robes. It was smeared with red handprints, simply holding onto him as he allowed himself to do the same to you. He didn't move, his caramel gaze searching the ground over your shoulder as he had set you down. His strong arms enveloped your body, almost hiding you in the expanse of his white and blue robes. 

The two of you remained that way, his chin nestled atop of your head. It didn't take long for you to succumb to exhaustion, him picking you up and carrying you to the large mansion. 

"Connor-" Norris called out in greeting but he stopped, looking at the solemn look his friend had and then noticing your sleeping form that was clinging onto the bear of a man. Connor however stopped in his tracks, looking at his friend. 

"Yes Norris?" He questioned quietly.

"It can wait Connor," he finally said, turning his eyes to the ground before gently ushering his friend forward. "I'll see if Myriam can help with your friend here..." With that, the Frenchman was off to find the woman in mention. 

 

You found yourself being roused by the feeling of someone playing with your hair, the soft touches almost feather-light and they seemed to know what to do. Your eyes opened slowly, finding the hood removed from Connor and his eyes focused on something with your soft locks. Slowly, you shifted and his caramel hues turned over to look at your face, finding you awake. Slowly, his lips pursed and hands folding into his lap. Reaching up tentatively, you gently brushed your fingertips over the braided locks. You felt the familiar beads, eyes turning up to him and finding a stoic and well placed mask on the Indian's face.

"He would want you to have it," was all the Assassin said before he was up and heading to the door.

"Wait- Connor," your hoarse voice began, stumbling out of the bed and getting up to move after him.

He stood in the doorway, massive frame practically swallowing the entrance and he took in a soft inhale. "You're not going back to Boston. The Red Coats took it over. I'm taking you to New York; Haytham was already looking for you and he'll track you here if you stay any longer," his tone wasn't friendly at all, and his body moved forward to carry him across the expansive second floor.

"But I thought you wanted to keep me here!" You protested, jumping slightly when he almost shoved your satchel into your arms.

His caramel hues bore into your eyes, face hardened and frown crossing his lips. "I don't see any use with a woman who can't sell things to help support the community," he bit out, turning around and making his way to the stairs and traveled down the steps. If your heart wasn't already shot up by losing Senadondo, it certainly got worse. Connor was right though- you did tell him that yourself as an excuse aside from saying that Haytham needed you... But this hurt you worse than you'd think it would. You took in a sharp breath, fingers curling into the rough fabric of the satchel before you weakly stumbled after his figure that awaited at the bottom of the steps. Achillies was standing near the door, giving Connor a bitter glare before his gaze softened on you.

"I apologize for your loss Miss _____," the old man breathed out as you carefully walked to the exit. He had stopped you, gently taking one of your hands with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I will see to it he rests peacefully here."

Giving a sad smile, you let your thumb pad swipe over his knuckles and looked down at your shoes. "I trust he would rest here peacefully no matter what sir. He did love the forest," you murmured, turning away from him and stepping onto the porch. There, you walked to the carriage that was awaiting you and numbly sat in it. The window was open, curtains pulled back away from it. You were staring down at the flooring of the carriage, Connor sitting in the driver's seat and flicking the reigns.

 

It took several hours from the Homestead in the River Valley to arrive at New York; Well, more like a day or so to arrive, but it felt like only a few hours. When you arrived, you got out and didn't spare a glance back at your driver. Your eyes shifted up along the sky before coming to a stop. Apparently a courier had gone to Shay to alert you of your presence. Awaiting you at the edge of the city was the Irishman, looking at you with grief and you instantly rushed to him. Your arms enveloped around him and gripped his leather jacket. He gently swayed on his feet, his eyes lifting to watch as the white robed assassin flicked the horse's reigns and turned back around the way he came. You soon found yourself being led towards the docks on the other side of the city. There wasn't much to be said; you were glad for that. It was already dark and the moon glittered across the sea while stars danced around in sorrow. There wasn't a home for you (at least that you were aware of) in New York, so you ended up sleeping on the Morrigan. Shay had kindly offered you his bed and at first you declined, but you ended up sleeping in the silky sheets anyways. You were so exhausted, so shaken up; and for the first time in your life, you wished you had died instead of someone else.

When you awoke, your eyes were adjusting to the dim light and taking in the scent of salt water and a bittersweet stench of rum. The captain's door to his quarters were closed tight, and a few stray strands of light filtered into the cabin through the shutters. Templar crosses sat in different places along the wall, though it looked as if they were faded, as if he wasn't part of the group any time recent. Shifting in the silky sheets, you saw the familiar dress that matched Shay and slowly you pulled it on to refresh yourself from the dirty dress that represented you were to have spent the day with Haytham. Gently fixing the bow at the small of your back, you felt the weighted sensation of beads from your temple and slid a hand up to feel how it was delicately made. Giving a quiet sigh, you tilted your head down before making your way out of the cabin and onto the deck. There, you saw a tall blonde haired man with a huntsman outfit on, and Shay standing next to him while he spoke with Haytham and Charles.

Hearing the soft clacking of your heeled shoes against the wood, Shay turned and gave you a warm smile, shifting his body to allow you in on the conversation. Haytham's blue-grey hues stared down at you, an apologetic look crossing his face. "I'm so sorry ______, I was running late," he began softly, reaching forward to hug you when you took a step away from his touch.

"Your excuses wont bring him back Haytham... and neither will Pitcarin's. It was his men that did it," you told him seriously, brow furrowing and looking away and towards the wooden floor.

Haytham gave a frown, staring at you long and hard. "It's a good thing we've proposed to switch to the Colonist's side then. Maybe that will put your nerves at ease?"

"It wont bring him back Haytham! That's the point!" You snapped, tears hot and nearly blinding your vision as you took in a shaky inhale before calming your nerves. You swallowed back a lump of bile before continuing, "You promised me that you wouldn't let Senadondo get hurt... And I stupidly listened to your request to stay back at the house in Lexington."

Haytham's jaw tightened, staring at you with quickly darkening eyes. "And you think that trying to escape in the middle of the battle was just as alright? That was stupid of _you_ to try and leave then! You're such a child, so daft and stupid and expecting everyone to answer your whims and desires and try to uphold everything that other people promised them," he sneered out a bit coldly, causing you to flinch.

"Haytham," Shay warned, causing the Head Master to turn his head and stare at him.

"She'll stay with you until further notice Cormac; Treat her as you please," the grandmaster snarled, turning and immediately prowling down the boarding dock and Charles passing you a small but apologetic look before the second in command scurried off like a puppy to its master.

Turning, Shay gently squeezed your shoulder before looking up at the man behind you,, his wide brimmed hat casting a shadow over his face. "Gist, let's go see if we can rent a proper house for her. And then we go and get something to cheer you up, alright Lass?"

Looking up at him, he lifted a hand and his palm cupped your small cheek. Slowly, his calloused thumb pad brushed away a tear trying to escape the edge of your eye.

He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and said, "Don't be sad. Its not a good look on you Lass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back to edit this chapter was really difficult for me. To be honest, writing this whole chapter made me cry. I was legit crying out tears as I clacked away at the keyboard and I had to stop on multiple occasions to wipe away my tears; It could be really only me and I was the only one sad about Senadondo, but it still hurt inside to write this chapter.
> 
> It hurt me worse to write the parts where Connor pushed the reader away and Haytham in a way doing the same. Like o mg I'm deprived of angst or some shit because this is NOT OKAY
> 
> There is probably some more grammar mistakes that I haven't caught yet, so I apologize. I'll edit this story to fix any grammatical errors haha.
> 
> Distan: Mother in Mohawk Language  
> Ragina: Father in Mohawk Language
> 
> asdfjkl; I feel like a jerk for doing this to you guys. Hopefully it'll be updated soon~
> 
> With Love,  
> Fignewtons


	7. Training Moment

Before Shay left for his trip to Paris, he and Gist took it upon themselves to care for you in any way possible, and promised they'd do anything for you. At first, you told them it was unnecessary and that you didn't want to be cared for like an old hag- but when they kept insisting, you decided to let them do it; not without a price though. When they first heard you say that they had a fee for this, they shifted uncomfortably and exchanged glances. It was then you explained you wanted to be taught how to fight- how to care for yourself. You /hated/ being treated like a child, and so here tou were going to act like someone who is capable without constant watch by Haytham and his men. 

You were a quick learner, and Shay and Gist were quite proud of their work invested in you. Although you did not have the assassins gauntlet, you did have other means to replace such things. So, a day before they would leave, you were to demonstrate to them your learnt capabilities and perform assassinations on hay filled dummies. Standing at the starting line, Gist gave you a hum and scratched at his brown beard. The brim of his hat was now holding up pooling water and his brown orbs flickered.

"Shay will be waiting for you at the finish line. You already know the course- just make it to the end," Gist explained as he tipped his head and sent the water into the ground before grinning at you. 

You grinned right back at the blonde. Your head tilted, eyeing the now soaking log and bolted as soon as his voice rang out. Your legs carried you across the forest ground, boots landing on the trunk and running up it. Your gloved hands outstretched, leaping forward and swinging to another branch before landing on one and running along the makeshift item. You pressed your body along the trunk, leaping around it and onto the one directly opposite of it and running along to a wooden platform. It was somewhat slippery, but you managed, and simply took the ladder and slid down it. Your hair was clinging to your face, beads hanging beside your neck and owl feathers clinging to your hair while the wolf claws slipped along the hallow of your throat. 

You had your own style of clothing now; Shay made sure you adapted your own clothing wants and even had them tailored to your appropiate size. You had a long tail coat, made of the finest leather and cotton, with a hood matching Connor's that sat nestled between your shoulder blades. You had black trousers tucked into black riding boots and a black blouse tucked into said trousers, with a black laced corset below your shirt. The shirt exposed your necklace, and your hair was always pulled back; Shay told you to be proud of who you were, and made sure to remind you that scar along your throat wasn't anything to be ashamed of. 

You continued running, clamboring up a slipped tree and soon flipping up your hood. Your jacket was only held together by one button in front of your belly, and the cool air caused a mist of your beeath to come out. You stopped at the edge of the branch, high above a leaf pile and your eyes surveying the dummies in the circle. The clearing was beautiful, brush to one side, dummies perfectly placed and trees encircling the area. It would be perfect for any battle to take place.

Slowly, you turned and jumped to another branch, pulling out long stilettos before running forward and leaping. You landed on one dummy just as the thunder crackled and lightning flashed, eerily glowing everything as you killed your target before running forward and sliding on your side. You knocked the dummy down, body twisting and rolling and you stabbed the dummy before snooping around a tree for the next. You pounced on its back, slicing the throat and hay pouring out before you slipped back into the woods and hid in the leave pile. From there, you popped out, yanking the target in with you and stabbing it before rolling out and making to the clearing. Once you arrived, you stood in the middle and sheathed your weapons.

Shay emerged from the treeline and gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "You have proven yourself worthy ____. If it were my ability, I would say you would make a perfect templar," he took in a soft breath. "But you are not a woman who fancies their ideas. An assassin is more like it."

You smiled below your hood, looking up at the Irishman. "Thank you Shay."

"For what you have shown today, I have decided that your training is complete and you are now able of protecting yourself and those around you," he smiled widely, you doing the same now.

It was then you lunged forward and hugged the man, simply gripping his drenched coat and eyes closed shut. "I couldn't have asked for better teachers Shay. Because of you and Gist I was able to do such things."

He smiled, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulder and simply holding you in the rainstorm.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i got inspiration for this from a thunderstorm that happened in my area (on march 23) and i was listening to the AC 3 OST in the process, and I came up with the chapter~ I hope you enjoy!
> 
> May 14th:  
> I have no idea what I want to do for the next chapter; I apologize that this is just a filler chapter and i feel i have failed.  
> Right now, im just gonna post this chapter so i can step back and plan out what can happen from here on out.
> 
> Im so glad youre patient with this.
> 
> With Love,  
> Fignewtons


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